


Coming Out

by verhalen



Series: Homeward Bound [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, Worldweavers - Multiverse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Male Character, Gen, Humor, LGBTQ Themes, Post-Canon, Scotland, Soren being Soren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 18:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: Claire and Sören get a visit from Claire's younger cousin, Harrison, who has an announcement to make.





	Coming Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Narya (Narya_Flame)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Ways of Paradox](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638137) by [Narya_Flame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya_Flame). 



> Claire and Harrison are Narya's OCs and borrowed with permission.

**September 2009**  
 _St. Andrews, Scotland_  
  
"Harrison!" Sören grinned and waved at the seventeen-year-old with a backpack on his back, idly rolling a wheeled suitcase, and the young man looked up and started waving excitedly.  
  
The blue eyes widened with shock as Claire broke out in a run across the bus station, flinging herself into his waiting arms, Harrison lifting her a few inches off the ground and spinning her around before putting her back down.  
  
"Claire." Harrison's eyes were too bright now, mirroring the tears in Sören's own dark brown eyes, knowing what he was thinking: _You can run again._  
  
Claire stood up on her tiptoes and mussed Harrison's unruly brown curls. "It's good to see you."  
  
"Yeah, it's good to see you too. You... you ran." Harrison's jaw dropped. "You actually ran..."  
  
"Yes." Claire nudged him, then started dragging him along by the tail of his shirt. "Come on."  
  
Sören put a friendly arm around Harrison as he approached and the two led him out to the Vauxhall. "How was your trip up here?" Harrison had taken the train from Sheffield to Leuchars, and the bus the rest of the way; it was just under six hours travel time. Claire and Sören had offered to buy him a plane ticket for the trip, but he preferred the train even though it meant a longer voyage.   
  
"Relaxing," Harrison said. "I watched the scenery and zoned out on my headphones. It was nice."  
  
Sören understood that - it would have been a rather different experience going by plane. He popped the trunk and threw Harrison's backpack and luggage inside, and Harrison climbed in the back seat.  
  
"I can't wait to see your place," Harrison said.  
  
"We've finally got it mostly the way we want it," Claire told him as Sören began to maneuver onto the road. "It was a bit of a fixer-upper, and we decided to get all new furniture instead of try to ship everything in our flat all the way from London, though we brought some things. There's still some minor things that need to be done but it's feeling more and more like a proper home all the time."  
  
"We have a giant flat screen telly in the living room," Sören said, "with surround sound, if you want to watch a movie or something while you're here."  
  
"Nice," Harrison said.  
  
"And," Sören went on, knowing Harrison would probably appreciate this as a lover of music, "we got a record player."  
  
"Oh shit, really?" Then Harrison immediately caught himself. "I mean, oh sweet, really?"  
  
Sören rolled his eyes. "Nobody's gonna get on your case about language around here, Harrison."  
  
Claire chuckled. "Especially not _here_."  
  
" _God._ " Sören laughed too. "I felt right at home up here with how much people swear. But anyway... yes, we got a record player."  
  
"More accurately," Claire said, "our friend Mark made us get a record player, because he's a vinyl purist."  
  
"Jæja, he owns a record shop in town."  
  
"It's good to see you guys made a friend up here," Harrison said. "Is that how you guys met?"  
  
"Well, no." Claire and Sören looked at each other. Claire did the explanation. "He's a musician, and when he closes up shop in the evening and the weather permits he likes to go to the beach and play guitar, sometimes he sings, which is where we first saw him. Sören proposed to me on the beach and Mark played the absolute most perfect song for it - 'Because the Night' by Patti Smith - and we ran into him at a pub a couple days later, insisted on buying him a drink and inviting him to have dinner with us one of these nights."  
  
"He's been kind of a fixture since then," Sören said.  
  
"He sounds interesting. Will I get to meet him?"  
  
Claire nodded. "Tomorrow, he's coming over for dinner. He'll bring his guitar and sing for us if we ask."  
  
"But tonight," Sören said, "we have plans - my aunt Gitta and her partner Jane want us all to come for dinner."  
  
"Oh. Are you sure I won't be imposing...?" Harrison fidgeted in the back seat.  
  
"No, they insisted when Claire told them you were coming to visit. They're... like that," Sören said.  
  
"Gitta is like Sören's level of friendly generosity on steroids," Claire said, grinning at Sören then looking over her shoulder to grin at Harrison.  
  
Harrison laughed at that, while Sören blushed. "Yeah, Sören's a nice guy," Harrison said, reaching up to pat Sören's shoulder, and then muttered, "Better be, if you're marrying my cousin..."  
  
"Sören treats me like gold. Speaking of which." Claire held out her hand to show off the engagement ring; Sören had gone to a jeweler in Dundee and custom-ordered a white-gold setting of all figure-eights, with an oval golden-flash labradorite as the focal piece, flanked by honey-colored Baltic amber and tiny champagne diamonds. Sören smiled with pride at Claire continuing to love the ring - he thought white diamonds were too plain for her, and she preferred more natural, exotic gemstones on the rare occasions she wore jewelry; she was wearing a rose quartz and ametrine pendant now, which had been a gift from Gitta and Jane, two Wiccans who were big into crystals. Neither Sören nor Claire were particularly religious, but Claire found fiddling with the pendant to be soothing if nothing else.  
  
Harrison gasped at the ring. "That is _fabulous,_ " he said.  
  
Sören's eyebrow went up at that, but he said nothing. He knew Harrison was involved in school musicals and enjoyed show tunes, but also knew from his experience of the art world that stereotypes weren't always true, so he never liked to assume things. On the other hand, Harrison was at that age to start talking about crushes or dating and he'd never mentioned girls, and Sören's gaydar was starting to go off. Now wasn't the time, though.  
  
It was the time for something else. "So we'll be taking you to my aunts' later," Sören said, "and in the meantime we want to take you to Jannettas for ice cream."  
  
"Ice cream?"  
  
Sören saw Harrison's face light up in the rear-view mirror and it was infectious, Sören smiled too; if Harrison was a dog his tail would be wagging. Sören himself got exuberant frequently and sometimes felt a bit self-conscious at how happy he got over the littlest things, so it was nice to have someone around with that kind of intensity. Sören felt things deeply, which was often more of a curse than a blessing but was an asset to his art, and he knew Harrison put feeling into his voice when he sang - music was another kind of art, he and Mark had been bonding over that shared experience as creators.  
  
It was a Saturday late afternoon, so there was a bit of a queue at Jannetta's but not anywhere near as bad as Sören and Claire had seen it during the summertime when they'd visited Gitta and Jane in years past, before moving to Scotland themselves. Once it was their turn to order, Claire had cookie dough ice cream, Sören had white chocolate raspberry ice cream with raspberry sorbet, and Harrison decided to try the Irn Bru ice cream, which made Claire and Sören laugh.  
  
"If you develop a taste for that stuff you'll fit in right up here when you go to school here," Sören said, having seen hordes of university students armed with Irn Bru.  
  
" _If_ ," Claire corrected.  
  
"No, you totally need to go to uni here," Sören said, looking at Harrison earnestly. "It'll be nice for Claire to have family closer and, honestly, me too." Sören thought of Harrison as the little brother he always wanted and never had - though Sören's fraternal twin Dagnýr was seven minutes younger and Sören never let him forget it, Dagnýr had grown up faster, being a child prodigy who got accepted to Oxford at fourteen. Dagnýr was already married with a small son, named Jón for their maternal grandfather, which had been the result of an accident when he'd been working on the Large Hadron Collider, sleeping with one of his fellow scientists. Dagnýr was a professor, teaching physics at the University of Toronto, and had written for scientific journals. Sören felt like his twin was light years ahead of him in the "having one's shit together" department... and even when they had been children, Dagnýr felt like a little adult. It had been something of a source of strain between them, though Sören loved his brother fiercely and was looking forward to seeing him at the wedding in November. Just the same, Sören liked having someone around more on his level, and someone who actually looked up to him. Claire, Mark, and his aunts didn't judge him for being a full-time artist, but at times it seemed like much of the world did.  
  
"I'm still thinking about it," Harrison said, nodding. "I'm applying to some other places, don't want to have all the proverbial eggs in one basket, but you're right, Sören, I'd like to be closer." He looked at Claire, eyes welling up again. "I can't believe you can run now...?"  
  
"Well, I can't run a marathon," Claire said, patting him. "It's still not _quite_ what it was before the accident -"  
  
"It's a long _fucking_ way, considering there were concerns whether or not you'd even walk again." Harrison swallowed hard.  
  
Sören's eyes were burning again too, remembering. The series of plastic tubes. The days of Claire in a coma, terrified that she wouldn't wake up, or wouldn't know who he was when she woke up. Then the days where it was a big deal that she could wiggle her toes...  
  
 _Damn you to the Hells, Justin Roberts._ His blood boiled thinking about that dipshit who had hit-and-run, didn't even seem sorry about it... _Bet you're sorry now, rotting away behind bars._  
  
"Bit by bit, I've been making progress. You saw a lot of the physical therapy, how grueling it was..." Claire looked choked up now too - Harrison and Sören had been her cheerleaders at these appointments, when just a few steps was a herculean effort.  
  
"I did. And now... look at you." Harrison squeezed her hand. "You did it, Claire."  
  
"I'm going to dance at our wedding," Claire said, looking at Sören, who smiled, and leaned in to give her a kiss. What was meant to be a chaste kiss quickly heated, their lips parting, tongues swirling...  
  
Harrison made vomit noises. "Get a room, you guys."  
  
"We have a room," Sören informed him. He couldn't resist. "Your guest room is right across from it." With that, he took a few deliberate licks at his ice cream and Claire blushed, giggling, giving Sören a playful swat.  
  
"We'll keep it down," Claire told him.  
  
"Probably," Sören quickly added, with a mischievous grin on his face.  
  
Harrison made more vomit noises.  
  
One of the proprietors of Jannetta's came over, concern visible on her face. "Is the ice cream all right?" she asked Harrison.  
  
"Oh. Oh god," Harrison said, facepalming, self-conscious at his display. "Yeah, the ice cream's great! The noises I was making were at these lot." He pointed to Claire and Sören, who demonstrated by snogging again.  
  
"Oh, all right," the lady said, relieved, laughing as she walked off.  
  
"You guys are so gross," Harrison said to them once she was gone, continuing to eat his ice cream.  
  
"We know." Claire beamed.  
  
"It's good to see you happy." Harrison also smiled. Then he glared at Sören. "It better stay that way."  
  
"Oh, I think I know... how to keep m'lady satisfied." Sören took a few more deliberate licks at his ice cream, eyes fixed on Claire; he waggled his eyebrows.  
  
"Mmmmmm, you sure do," Claire purred, and her lips suggestively wrapped around one of the cookie dough bits in her ice cream.  
  
Harrison facepalmed again, except he accidentally facepalmed with the hand holding the ice cream cone, and subsequently ended up with a dollop of Irn Bru ice cream on his forehead, which slid down his nose.  
  
Sören accidentally spat a mouthful of ice cream, in hysterics, and as Claire blotted him with a napkin she teased, "Now, Sören, I thought you liked to swallow, not spit..."  
  
Harrison spilled more ice cream on himself and blurted out, "Shagging... knickers... bollocks... fucking... bloody... _fuck._ "  
  
Several pairs of eyes in the restaurant were on Harrison now and Sören was howling with laughter. Sören snorted ice cream, which he didn't think was humanly possible and _hurt_ , now howling with pain, and Claire was tearing up, doubled over, wheezing.  
  
They left a few minutes later, not wanting to make even more of a scene, finishing their ice cream in the car, despite Sören's dislike of having food in his clean vehicle.  
  
"You guys are fucking terrible," Harrison said as he finished his ice cream cone.  
  
" _Takk_ ," Sören said, grinning.  
  
  
_  
  
  
They stopped at the house to drop off Harrison's things in the guest room and give him a quick tour of the place, which included an introduction to the two small Indian Star tortoises, Copernicus and Moriel, that Sören had gotten Claire for her twenty-fifth birthday.  
  
Sören and Claire stole a few minutes of cuddle time while Harrison called his parents to confirm he'd arrived safely, and then it was off to Gitta and Jane's.  
  
Sören's aunt and her partner owned a manse that had been in Jane's family for several generations, that Jane had turned into a bed-and-breakfast during the Thatcher-era recession to try to make some extra money, and had fallen in love with the business and stuck with it. They had staff to help them prepare lunch and dinner from a simple menu for those who wanted it; there was a chicken coop that regularly produced eggs and a garden growing several varieties of vegetable in the summer, and lamb and fish were plentiful locally.  
  
"Harrison, this is my aunt, Birgitta Jónsdóttir, and her partner, Jane MacGregor," Sören said, gesturing. "And Gitta, Jane, this is Claire's cousin, Harrison James..."  
  
Jane gave Harrison a hearty handshake, and Gitta held out her hand more daintily, which Harrison politely kissed. "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jónsdóttir..."  
  
"Oh, dear," Gitta laughed. "Please, call me Gitta. Jónsdóttir is a patronymic, not a surname..."  
  
"Jæja, we're all on a first-name basis back in Iceland," Sören explained - and boy did he get tired of explaining this to people who called him "Mr. Sigurdsson", though he had more patience for Harrison, and he couldn't expect the whole world to understand the customs of a tiny island. "Even with the President and the Prime Minister."  
  
"OK, sorry," Harrison said.  
  
"No harm done," Gitta said, patting his arm, which she then took. "Come on inside, dear."  
  
There was a wing of the manse that Gitta and Jane had taken as their own living space, and they were brought into the homey living room. Once everyone was seated and Jane had brought out tea, the cats made their rounds - a giant brown Norwegian Forest Cat with blue eyes named Riker, a blind black cat named LaForge, an orange tabby named Crusher, and a domineering silver tabby named Picard.  
  
Jane was sixty-one, and Gitta was fifteen years her junior, at forty-six. Jane was a tall woman with a ruddy complexion and a large beak nose, hair that had been russet before it went silver. Gitta was also tall, and looked a great deal like Sören's mother, with a cherubic face with dimples, grey eyes, and long wavy dark hair that was showing the first threads of silver. Sören favored his father strongly - curly dark hair that he wore to his nape like his father did during the 1970s, a dark beard and mustache that were like his father's facial hair, soulful long-lashed dark eyes and full lips on a face that had been called "sultry" by Claire and more than one of his past lovers; Gitta had known Sören's father and frequently said looking at Sören was looking like a photograph of Sigurd - but Sören didn't remember his father much, who had died by the time Sören was two; Sören's mother Brynhildur had died just before his sixth birthday, and he had been the one to find her, a moment that defined his entire life. Being around Gitta ached a little, the living memory of his mother, and all the what-could-have-beens. Yet it was also comforting, and he snuggled into the hug she gave him on the way to the kitchen.  
  
Jane sat with them and entertained them with an episode of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ while Gitta worked on dinner. Gitta had been a guest at the bed-and-breakfast when she first moved to Scotland from Akureyri, Iceland in 1989, and they had bonded over books and a mutual love of the Star Trek franchise. Harrison, a sci-fi nerd himself, was already taking a shine to them, delighted by the names for their cats.  
  
Claire cuddled up on Sören during the show, and Sören played with Claire's strawberry blonde hair, which today was loose, hanging to the middle of her back. He loved her hair, and the sweet face that he stroked now, smiling at her smile, the love in her grey eyes as she looked up at him. He loved her hourglass figure - he'd been furious at the world when she'd been starving herself in London before the accident, not understanding what anyone would think was wrong with her body. He was glad to see her out of those business suits all the time, a more relaxed bohemian look now, tonight in a broomstick skirt and peasant blouse. He was a T-shirt and jeans guy, he was _insisting_ on wearing his Doc Martens at their wedding in November even if he otherwise had to get dressed up. Despite Claire working so hard to enter the professional world, she felt more like herself now when she wasn't so... professional.  
  
 _My wild flower._ Sören leaned in to brush his lips against Claire's forehead, slide them down her nose, which made her grin and tweak his nose.  
  
Harrison seemed to notice it too. "I can't get over how relaxed you look," he said to Claire.  
  
"I can't get over how relaxed I _feel_ ," Claire said, stretching, which in turn made Crusher stretch before curling up, kneading with contentment. "Moving here to St. Andrews has done a world of good."  
  
"Have you figured out what you're going to do yet?" Harrison asked.  
  
"Not yet. I'm still evaluating my options. Though, honestly, one of them is going back to school and getting a new degree for a career change. Something less toxic than what I was doing before." She glanced up at Sören who nodded; they'd discussed it a bit here and there. "So when you're looking around on the open day, I won't just be tagging along, I'll be actively looking myself."  
  
"You mean we might be starting school together?" Harrison raised an eyebrow.  
  
"...Yes."  
  
"That would be brilliant. Or terrifying. Or you know, both."  
  
"Both," Claire agreed.  
  
Dinner was ready - Harrison grinned when he saw it was fish and chips. "My favorite!"  
  
"I know," Gitta said as they sat down. "I asked Claire what your favorite meal was, because I wanted you to feel at home here."  
  
"Awww, really?"  
  
"Yes, really." Gitta smiled at him. "Claire is very dear to us, she's our family, and that means you're our family, too."  
  
"Well, thank you." Harrison reached out to pat her hand. "Both of you."  
  
As they dug in, Gitta and Jane made polite, friendly inquiries about Harrison in sixth form, and looking towards the future, and he in turn asked about St. Andrews and what it was like here, what he could expect if he moved here for uni. Towards the end of dinner that conversation turned more personal, with Harrison asking about the bed and breakfast itself, the story of Jane opening the business in the 1980s, and meeting Gitta.  
  
"It'll be twenty years in January, wow," Gitta said.  
  
"It's so nice to see people who've been together such a long time," Harrison said, when dinner was over.  
  
"It is," Sören said, looking at Claire, taking her hand, as Claire dipped her head and smiled. _I want to be together with you at least that long. Longer._  
  
"Well, I'll drink to that," Jane said, getting up, and came back with a bottle of Auchentoshan.  
  
When Jane handed a glass to Harrison, Claire sputtered, "He's seventeen!"  
  
"You were younger than that when your grandfather Joshua introduced you to single-malt whisky," Sören pointed out. "And the French let their kids drink wine when they're, like, four. Hell, the Red Cross has a blood ban on Icelanders because our blood is a fourth Brennivín."  
  
Gitta snorted. "It is not, Sören." She grinned, showing where Sören got the "troll genes" from. "It's a third, not a fourth, get your maths right."  
  
Jane gave Gitta a look, and Gitta smiled innocently.  
  
"But, you know," Sören said, more seriously, "it won't hurt Harrison to have a shot and it's not like he's driving. I don't know why it was OK for you to drink when you were fifteen and it's not OK for him to drink now. You sound almost like your mother -"  
  
Claire gave a little sigh of irritation and pinched the bridge of her nose, but she nodded. "You're right." She folded her arms, hugging herself a little. "I think after the accident I just got a bit protective, and..."  
  
"Well, _that's_ understandable, dear," Jane said, "but maybe your recovery isn't just physical, hm? Maybe it's letting yourself trust fate again."  
  
Claire raised her glass, and knocked it down. Then she held it out for a second. Jane smiled and poured her another shot.  
  
Harrison made a face at the whisky, and Sören noticed, cackling.  
  
"It's an acquired taste," Jane said, "but here, this might help." She brought her own shot glass to her nose, breathing deep. "Smell it, let yourself notice the subtle notes..."  
  
"It's better with ice, too," Sören whispered to Harrison.  
  
" _It is not better with ice_ ," Jane scolded, wagging her finger. "I ought to have you deported for saying that," she teased.  
  
Sören blew a raspberry and shook the ice in his glass before taking another sip.  
  
"No, you know what it's even better with?" Sören couldn't resist getting Jane riled up now, though it was all in good fun. "Irn Bru."  
  
The look on Jane's face was priceless. Gitta tried not to laugh, and failed; Claire shook with silent laughter.  
  
"I'd try that," Harrison said.  
  
"No. No you will not," Jane said.  
  
Gitta patted her. "You're so cute."  
  
" _I am not cute._ "  
  
Sören and Gitta said at the same time, "Hi not cute..."  
  
"God," Harrison muttered under his breath. "I might need the entire bottle to deal with Sören this weekend."  
  
"You don't hate my humor all the time," Sören pointed out.  
  
"Nah. But you are a fucking troll." Harrison shook his head, grinning before he took another sip of whisky. He looked over at Gitta and Jane and said, "I bet Sören was a real hellion as a kid, you guys must have some stories to tell."  
  
"We don't, actually." Gitta sighed.  
  
Sören nodded. "After my mother died close to my sixth birthday, I was raised by my father's sister Katrín and her husband Einar. And..."  
  
"They didn't want us in contact with the children because..." Gitta looked at Jane, and then back at Harrison; they clasped hands, remembering. "Back in those days, people were _far_ less accepting. Katrín hadn't gotten the religion bug yet, but she still didn't want a pair of lesbians 'corrupting' them..."  
  
"Because, of course, their drinking excessively and getting violent while drunk was a fine influence," Sören said, swirling the whisky around in his glass before taking a nip.  
  
"And poor Sören and his siblings were never told why. So Sören just assumed we didn't care..."  
  
"Claire made me get in touch with them. And not just with them, but I've got family in Australia." Sören frowned. "Katrín and Einar were really fucking classy about that too."  
  
"My brother married an Aboriginal woman," Gitta explained, "and had five children with her. Five half-black children. I'm not sure what offended Katrín and Einar more..."  
  
Sören downed the rest of his whisky. "Well, clearly they did a fine job of raising us to be heteronormative _and_ 'keep the race pure', those fucking bigots..." Sören made air quotes after he set his glass down. "Considering all the guys I've shagged, and at least a couple of them were black." Sören grinned.  
  
Harrison turned red at this, looking down nervously, but he was also grinning and laughing, and Claire laughed too.  
  
"I hope you're not inviting Katrín and Einar to the wedding," Gitta said, frowning.  
  
"Their son Ari, yes. His parents, no. As much as it would give me a perverse sort of amusement for them to have to breathe the same air as you _and_ my cousin Ali, who's confirmed she's coming out from Australia to finally meet me in-person and attend the wedding... no, because I'd have to be held back from stabbing one or both of them." Sören frowned.  
  
"I really wish we'd gotten to raise you," Gitta said with a sigh. "And Ari too. He turned out to be such a nice young man, not like his parents at all."  
  
"Ari's a good bean," Sören said, and he turned to Harrison and said, "You'll like my cousin. Hopefully you'll like most of my family, but you guys are both sci-fi and fantasy nerds, you'll get on well."  
  
"Does he play D&D?" Harrison asked.  
  
Sören nodded. "He DMs a game once a week in Reykjavik." Then he looked back at his aunts. "But yes, I wish you could have raised us, too."  
  
"Plus..." Gitta looked at Jane, who nodded as if she knew what Jane was going to say, and patted her. "Our biggest regret is that we haven't had children. We couldn't have adopted, back in the day, and one or the other of us finding a sperm donor would have been a potential problem with getting custody taken away for having lesbian parents. The courts are ruling on same-sex adoption in Scotland right now, but even if it passes, we're both past the age of wanting small children." Gitta looked at Harrison. "You'd be the right age for if we'd had..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
"Awwwwwww." Harrison put his drink down, got up, and gave each of them a hug. "Well, it's kind of you to consider me family already, and we'll probably be seeing a lot of each other even if I don't attend uni up here."  
  
Gitta and Jane patted him. "We'll be spoiling you when you're around, so be prepared for that," Jane said.  
  
"You guys like Star Trek, made my favorite food and let me drink so you're already good in my book," Harrison said when he sat down.  
  
"I love how your criteria for being good in your book involves drinking," Claire teased. "That's some priorities."  
  
"You fit right in to an Icelandic and Scottish household," Jane said, raising her glass.  
  
  
_  
  
  
"Your aunts are brilliant," Harrison said on the drive back to the house.  
  
"I love them," Sören said, nodding.  
  
"And holy shit, wow, did gay people have it rough twenty years ago." Sören watched Harrison shake his head in the rear-view mirror. "It's great that they've been able to stay together so long through all of that."  
  
"Even just a little less than ten years ago it was rough," Sören said. "I came out when I was your age..." Sören facepalmed, then quickly put his hand back on the wheel. "Jesus Christ, I just said _when I was your age_ , I feel so old..."  
  
Claire rubbed his shoulder, cackling. Then she teased with, "Does this mean I can make DILF jokes?"  
  
Harrison started with the vomit noises again.  
  
A moment later Sören picked up his train of thought. "Anyway, it was 2001 when I came out, and it wasn't sunshine and roses then, either, especially not in a small town in Iceland. We may have elected the first openly gay Prime Minister back home which I'm _super_ proud of - met her once, by the way, great lady - "  
  
"You... met a Prime Minister." Harrison sounded incredulous.  
  
"Jæja? I've met Iceland's President, too." Sören shook his head, once again not understanding why that was so hard to believe. "It's so weird, you Brits, you don't meet the people you elect into head of state office, like they're not regular people to you. Back where I come from, we're such a small country, it feels like everyone knows everyone... which can be a curse as much as it is a blessing, sometimes... but we're very ordinary, down-to-earth people."  
  
"Ordinary people who eat fermented shark," Claire said.  
  
"And believe in elves," Harrison added. "I read about that part online in a news story."  
  
"I'm surprised Gitta didn't start with the elf blood rumor," Sören said. "If you hang around she'll probably tell you one of these days, so I'll beat her to it... supposedly we have an elven ancestor."  
  
"What." Harrison laughed.  
  
Sören shrugged. "I try to not think about it too much because it raises some questions I don't like nagging at me at odd hours of the morning, my brain is already weird enough." He quickly changed the subject. "What was I saying... right. 2001, we weren't nearly as progressive on social issues as you might think, so coming out back then was... difficult. Not just with the people who _didn't_ accept me, but with the people who did. I had someone pretend to be all supportive of me just so he could take advantage of me, which, you know, in hindsight was a bit predatory. Not that there aren't predators these days but... it seemed somehow easier to do, back in the days when there was less visibility so anyone who was open about it seemed like they were OK to trust, and of course, that wasn't necessarily so."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And I had the double whammy of coming out again as bi," Sören said, "after I realized I had feelings for Claire and they weren't going away. Biphobia is pretty prevalent. As it is, Claire's parents, your aunt and uncle, have been polite to my face, but they asked some really insensitive questions to Claire after she'd said she was living with a gay guy and now suddenly we were in a relationship..."  
  
"I'm still sorry about that," Claire said. "I think my parents aren't as bad now, but..."  
  
"They don't have a problem with gay people," Harrison said.  
  
"No, they don't," Sören said. "But they were suspicious of my bisexuality, like if I was 'confused' or had a disease or..."  
  
"Oh. Oh _god_."  
  
"I understand they were concerned that I would break Claire's heart, but it was still really... indelicate."  
  
Claire kissed his cheek and nuzzled his beard. "I love you, you know. And I accept you."  
  
"Ohhhh I know." Sören grinned at her. "Should we tell him?"  
  
"Tell me what," Harrison said.  
  
Claire closed her eyes and nodded. "If he's going to come up eventually, or at least come by more often, we might as well be honest with him, you're right that he isn't a kid anymore."  
  
"Claire and I technically have an open relationship," Sören informed Harrison. "I say 'technically' because we have caveats on that, like... she thinks it would be good for me to find a boyfriend, and I think it would be easier on our relationship if we were sharing him, and that's easier said than done. The poly community calls people like what we're looking for 'unicorns' and people like us 'unicorn chaser' because the saying goes finding a third who's bisexual and into both of you is as rare as finding a unicorn."  
  
"So you guys haven't found a third yet," Harrison said.  
  
"No. We're not actively looking, because we're not into the club scene and using dating sites is weird and uncomfortable. So that's why it's all 'technically', all still in theory. But it might happen someday and I figured while we're having this discussion you should know in case you come visit and we've got a boyfriend hanging around..."  
  
"I get it. Though I wonder what Aunt Darrell and Uncle Rupert would think..."  
  
Claire made a noise.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Once they were back at the house, the tortoises were given fresh water and produce, and Claire, Harrison, and Sören watched them move around their habitat for a bit, before Sören suggested, "Want to go for a walk?"  
  
It was nighttime now, and the beach was lovely at night; they just stood for a few minutes to watch the waves.  
  
Mark wasn't on the beach, nor did Sören necessarily expect to see him here at this hour but felt a little twinge of disappointment just the same. He could tell from the look on Claire's face when they got back to the house that she felt it too. But he'd be visiting them tomorrow, and in the meantime...  
  
"Oh sweet," Harrison said, looking at the gaming console. "You want to play Super Mario?"  
  
"Hell yeah," Sören said.  
  
Claire laughed at them. "That's the perfect excuse to take a bubble bath. I earned it after getting the place spotless this morning..."  
  
"I offered to help," Sören pointed out.  
  
"You did," Claire said, "and I keep telling you..."  
  
"You need to do things. Jæja, I get it." Sören gave her a little squeeze.  
  
"So I'll be upstairs for a bit." Claire gave a mock disapproving look at Sören and her cousin. "Try to not destroy the house and undo all my hours cleaning while I'm relaxing, children."  
  
Harrison started making Tasmanian Devil noises as he took pillows off the couch and tossed them around, which made Claire throw a pillow at him before she headed to the staircase, dodging a pillow on her way up.  
  
Sören started the game, and after they'd been playing for twenty minutes he went to the kitchen and brought out Doritos and Mountain Dew, which had been bought in anticipation of Harrison's arrival. As a former med student Sören tried to not indulge in junk food terribly often but it was a guilty pleasure and one he tore into now.  
  
"I'm going to own your arse," Harrison said, frantically pushing buttons on the controller.  
  
The words came out before Sören could stop himself. "My arse is already spoken for, _takk._ Just ask your cousin."  
  
Harrison facepalmed and shook with silent laughter. "TMI, bro. T. M. I."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"No you're not."  
  
Sören grinned. "No, not really."  
  
"So, ah." Harrison took a mouthful of Doritos. "Sören... well, we're friends, right?"  
  
"Right now we're mortal enemies." Sören moved his pixels around on the screen. "But jæja, of course. Why?" Sören looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong? You need someone to talk to?"  
  
"Not wrong, per se. Just... a lot."  
  
Sören hit pause on the game and leaned back with his Mountain Dew. "Out with it, then."  
  
Harrison took a deep breath. "All right." He also leaned back, looked at Sören, opened his mouth to speak, couldn't speak, closed his mouth, looked down, and then looked back at Sören.  
  
Sören waited, knowing this had to be pretty important, though he had a feeling based on certain cues he'd picked up, of what it was.  
  
Harrison finally blurted out, "I'm gay."  
  
Sören wasn't surprised. He paused a moment, thinking of the right response. "Congratulations" didn't feel right, neither did "good for you", "good going", or anything else. And then it came to him. "Hi Gay, I'm Sören."  
  
Harrison glared. "SÖREN..."  
  
Claire's bubble bath was over, and she called from the top of the stairs. "What's he done now?"  
  
Sören started to shake with silent laughter, which was no longer silent when Claire was downstairs, in the living room in a pale pink nightgown, her hair damp. "What?" she asked.  
  
"He..." Harrison made a vague hand gesture and put the controller down.  
  
"Oh, Harrison. You know I take the piss out of _everyone_ , and it's such a complete non-issue to me that I had to not be serious about it..." Sören patted him.  
  
"Oh no." Claire put a hand on her hip. "What is it? Don't tell me that you're making fun of him about having a girlfriend, or something..."  
  
"It's... it's not a girlfriend," Sören said, and then looked at Harrison as if to say _Go on, you can tell her._  
  
Harrison took a deep breath. "I just came out to Sören. I told him I'm gay..."  
  
"Hi Gay," Claire said, grinning.  
  
Harrison covered his face with his hands, screaming, but he was laughing too. "Et tu, Clarius?"  
  
"Sorry. Sören's been rubbing off on me..."  
  
"Is that what we're calling it now?" Sören asked.  
  
Harrison made a noise. "YOU GUYS."  
  
Then Claire walked over to her cousin and gave him a hug, and after a minute Sören joined in the hug, hugging both of them.  
  
"I'm proud of you," Claire told him.  
  
"Hi proud of you," Sören said.  
  
"See? He does it to me too."  
  
The naughty look Sören gave her at "does it to me" made Claire crack up laughing, and Harrison rolled his eyes, made more noises, but also reached out to hug both of them.  
  
"We support you," Sören said. "And see? That wasn't so bad. We are 110% accepting of you."  
  
"Exactly," Claire said, sitting down beside Harrison. "And it's good that you feel you can tell us..."  
  
"...And that you're coming out now, rather than waiting until you're older and trying to live a double life," Sören said.  
  
"I mean," Harrison said, "I don't know how much of a big deal I want to make about it, I don't want to introduce myself to people like 'Hi I'm Harrison James and I'm a homosexual,' if it's in some context where they really don't need to know..."  
  
"But it is a bigger deal than you may be aware of," Sören said. "People may treat you differently, or they may not. Like what kind of people you want to associate with. Trying to hide it for the sake of being friends with homophobes, they may not be the sort of people worth going to all that trouble for..."  
  
"I think I'm already finding that out." Harrison made a face. "A friend of mine said something homophobic a few days ago, and he doesn't know I am, but I had a bit of a think on the way up here, and then of course the discussions happening, it seemed like a sign that maybe I should finally..."  
  
"It's taking a risk," Sören said, "but..." He rubbed Harrison's shoulder. "Admitting what you are to someone, is a huge, huge thing."  
  
"You haven't told anyone else?" Claire asked.  
  
"Nope." Harrison shook his head.  
  
Sören hugged him again. "I'm honored that you trust me and value our friendship enough to have told me -"  
  
Harrison grinned at Sören. "Hi Honored -"  
  
"Hi Gay."


End file.
